22. Chapter 22

Kylo wonders, a passing fancy, what would happen if he closed the lid of the holochron on Yali and weighed it down with a book. He smiles at the thought as they walk back through the Barracks to the training room.  He hadn't known what to expect from the box, but he was reluctantly pleased with what they'd found. An ancient guardian of lost lore would be useful in the fight against Snoke. He just wished she didn't come with a sassy mouth and a petulant temper.

The old lady is quiet for a beat as they enter the training room, head turning and eyes darting as Rey bears the holochron in her hands, emotions flashing over her small wrinkled features too quickly for Kylo to process before she rallies and gives a sniff of disdain.

“This place is filthy! Girl, set me down on that shelf, over yonder! Boy, there are brooms behind the curtain on the back wall! I don’t care what has happened in the last however many years, this is one tradition that will be preserved!” She crosses her arms over her translucent chest and glares at Kylo as though he is responsible for the dust.

A prickle of anxiety that has nothing to do with sweeping flashes from his mind to Rey’s. Tell her we don’t have time for this. She might listen to you .

Rey shoots him a sharp look. Be nice! Then, aloud, she addresses the hologram. “Master Yali? We need to be able to use this technique two days from now. Will you be able to help us?”

Yali narrows her eyes and the tips of her ears twitch as she stares, long and hard, up at Rey. “Hold me up so I can look down on you properly, girl.” Her expression gentles as Rey complies. “Two days? I could make you full practitioners in two years, perhaps adequate in two months of hard study. Two days? Tell me your rush.” She flicks an impatient gesture at Kylo but keeps her eyes on Rey. “You can move a broom and your mouth at the same time, can’t you, boy?”

Grumbling under his breath, he hasn’t had to clean the training rooms in over a decade, he finds the brooms more or less where Yali said they would be, work worn and covered in thick dust. He tosses one to Rey before setting to work himself.

Rey catches the broom and begins the story in her easy lilt. She tells it quickly and well, a clear, concise narrative of their encounter and how events had spiraled out of control. He’ll admit that she has a certain knack for storytelling. “So, we have two days.” She finishes and leans the broom against the wall, turns to face the old master. “Can you, will you, help us?”

Yali is quiet, tapping her chin and staring at the ceiling. “Two days to train you sufficiently so that you’re not turned into mindless toys for some half-rate Dark-Sider who let my order’s temple decay like this?” Her face splits in another devilish grin and she lets out a whoop. “I knew I liked you! You kids have got some guts. Yes, I’ll help.” She presses her palms together in front of her mouth and patters her feet gleefully against the floor and nods with a decisiveness that could bend the world around it. “We’d better start now, then. Take me to the armory. You’ll need weapons for this.”   

The tops of the high shelves and racks are lost in the gloom as they make their way through the abandoned armory, illuminated only by the bright lavender glow from the box. The air is still here, musty from neglect. Kylo had poked his head in here on his first excursion to the Barracks, but as Yali directs them to a back wall, he regrets his quick dismissal of the space. Rows upon rows of lightsaber hilts glint in the purple light. He's never seen so many in one place or so many different styles. His breath catches in his chest; it's a treasure trove.

Rey sets the holochron down gently and looks around. “What is all this stuff?” He sees through her eyes for a moment, feels her itchy-fingered need to start digging.

Yali shrugs. “A Knight’s weapon belongs to the order. Hilts get handed down. Crystals get repurposed. You do have a sword, right, girl? Hey! Boy! You are standing in front of the training weapons, get them down.”

“In theory. Someone took it as a trophy.” Her tone leaves no doubt that she’s still salty over that.

Kylo smiles to himself as he grabs an armful of what he assumes are training weapons and is rewarded with a jab of annoyance through their connection.“I know where her saber is. We’re going to get it this afternoon. It’s not an issue.” He can feel Rey ruffle at his dismissal, but ignores it.

“Dark-Siders!” Yali huffs, “No respect for anyone’s things.” She nods a dismissal to Kylo. “That’s quite enough out of you, boy. Rey, dear, see if you can find something in that mess that suits. You too, my lad.”

“I’m not your lad, lady,” Kylo grouches. He picks up a hilt and then tosses it aside. “None of these have exhaust ports. I’ve got my own weapon.”

“I’m no lady, pal. You’ll just have to make do with what’s there. I won’t have you slicing up my training droids like some kind of savage!”

“Training droids?” Rey’s eyes shine as she nudges Kylo aside to sort through the selection. Her analysis whispers against his mind, too curved, too heavy, too light, too short, not right .

Kylo turns a hilt over saber in his hands, pausing. It’s not quite right for him, but... He taps it against Rey’s shoulder, offers it to her. “This one.”

Her fingers brush his as she takes the hilt and inspects it. Rey nods and the feeling of rightness, of comfort, warms him through their link as she turns to the side and tests it out. “Yeah, this one will do.”

He takes the one Rey discards -  it’ll do well enough for now - and grabs Yali’s box off the countertop. Ignoring her demands to be given to Rey, he strides back into the training room. He sets the holochron back on the shelf and begins loosening up in the center of the room.

The rich bloom of Rey's amusement at his contortions balances the indignant shouting from the box as she joins him on the springy floor. She rotates her shoulders, stretches her hamstrings, bounces on the balls of her feet. Kylo cracks his neck, rolling his head on his shoulders, and adjusts his grip on the training hilt as Rey takes a few practice swings with her own.

“Turn it on, girl.” Yali settles herself on the edge of her box, short legs dangling off the edge. “There’s a switch on the butt; you too, boy.” The dull metal tubes hum, but otherwise do not change appearance. “Touch the edge, just so you know what to expect. It won’t hurt, much.”

There is a pop and a faint hiss; Rey sticks her scorched finger in her mouth and scowls at her instructor. Kylo feels a minor ache, but it’s definitely preferable to dealing with the carbon burns of a live weapon. Surly, Rey adjusts her grip on the weapon and squares off against him.

“I want to see how you fence. No tricks, kids. Keep it clean.” Yali claps her hands together, a brisk ringing sound. “Begin!”

They lock eyes and freeze. He can feel her thoughts, a quick, half-intuited analysis. There’s an instant where she readies to swing at him and he shifts his feet in preparation to counter it. As he sets himself up to slash at her she responds in kind. It’s like trying to play holochess against himself.

“Any day, my babies! I haven’t waited an eternity for such grandstanding. Attack!” Yali shouts and shakes her fist at them.

It’s a good enough distraction. He takes the initiative to capitalize on Rey’s lapse of attention, committing to the initial attack, flicking the blade down, changing trajectory as she moves to block his first attack. She responds well to the shift, a hard parry followed by a slash upwards.

Rey fights like she’s trying to break him apart, basic strokes delivered in steady succession, given strength by the Force. She blocks the same way, absorbing the energy of his attacks with a terrible sort of stoicism even as her arms shake with the effort as he wears down her resistance with Force and superior physical strength.

His major problem, it seems, is that she’s not fooled by any of his misdirections. The mirror of his thoughts in her mind gives her a perfect understanding of his intent so she doesn’t waste time or energy following feints. The mismatch of the training weapon to his own lightsaber doesn’t help either. The exhaust vents make his weapon of choice unwieldy but the offer tactical advantages over the single bladed style. They trade strikes and superficial touches for what feels like hours until Yali shouts for them to cease.

“Enough!” Yali claps her hands again and climbs to her feet as they turn to face her. “That’s a place to start, if nothing else.” She shakes her head. “For the next round, Rey, adopt the trance as I told you. Your focus should be on attacking your opponent’s will to fight, his very mindset . The attacks against his body are just an extension of that intent. Let the Force guide your defenses.” She glances over at Kylo. “Speak your piece, boy. You’re her teacher, too.”

Kylo decides to take the compliment, such as it is, at face value. “You can be faster than that. You can’t out muscle me in this, so don’t try.”

Wrinkling her nose at that, Rey mops her forehead with her sleeve as she squares up again. The wheels of her mind turn, thoughts churning the criticism and instructions into fuel for her endless determination. Yali claps for them to begin and Rey attacks.

He can feel the struggle in her blows now. They’re not as heavy as before and he can bat them aside with little effort, but her focus isn’t on the physical. If there’s a mental impact Kylo’s not feeling it yet, so he gets a handful of hits on her, the shock tingling against his leg through their connection. It’s not a pleasant experience. He hesitates for just a half-breath before attacking the next gap in her defenses, failing to exploit the distraction.  She blocks his slow attack and flicks the tip of her weapon up, smacking him firmly in the side of the neck.

She crows her triumph in his head as she steps back and rubs the smarting side of her throat, eyes bright as they turn to Yali. “Is that it?”

Yali nods. “More or less. Very sneaky, girl. You’ll have an easier time fortifying your comrades, but offensive use is important to understand, and your boy is a stubborn fellow.”

“He’s not my boy,” Rey mutters and glares daggers at the floor. “What now?”

Next on Yali’s agenda is fighting training droids, hulking plastoid things with too many arms and painted targets on their bulbous bodies. The Force flows strongly through their link as they fight shoulder to shoulder, thoughts intermingling as he blocks two arms, locking them in place as Rey darts underneath to strike at the smallest circle. The plastoid arms skitter off his blade, darting at her unprotected back and Kylo doesn’t think, he just pulls as she parries the blow and zooms back out of the droid’s encircling arms.  She laughs, a golden sound. He’s never heard her laugh before and it pushes him, pushes them both further, adding the Force to their attacks and tricks, until the victory conditions are met and the droids power down.

Kylo braces his hands on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, shaking hair out of his eyes as lets out a short huff that could, maybe, have been a laugh of his own.  How long has it been since he last laughed?  He can’t remember.  He meets Rey’s eyes and she smiles.

The applause coming from the holochron is quiet, not a single clap of command but a gentle patter of satisfaction. “That was a worthy first attempt. Impressive understanding of the mind meld; it will take you far. There is still much for the two of you to learn, but the aptitude is there to seize on.” Yali rolls over so she’s lying on her stomach, propping her wide chin in her hands as she watches. “Rest and then practice dueling each other some more. The girl’s raw. She needs more time with a sword in her hand. Boy, this is your area, don’t mess it up.” Kylo gives the master a sharp look and Yali snickers, “Just cause you’ve kept all your fingers while running with exhaust ports doesn’t mean squat to me, kid. Now scoot!”

Rey’s voice touches his mind, amused and resigned. Just let her be .

Kylo sends back an inarticulate grumble of emotion but decides that there is nothing to be gained by encouraging the crazy old bat. He bumps his arm against her shoulder, brushes his knuckles against the back of her hand and she leans against him as energy surges up their arms at the contact, burning away his fatigue and returning sharp alacrity to her eyes as she gives him a quick sidelong look.

Kylo masters the ridiculous impulse to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear and steps back, bringing his training sword up between them. It strains against his hand and he gives Rey a dirty look. Stop that!

She crinkles her eyes at him, bringing her own weapon up, and doesn’t ease the pressure, so he follows it, adding his push to her pull for an extra burst of speed.  Surprise flashes across her face, through their connection, and then she parries, ducks and slams her shoulder hard into his diaphragm. Air whooshes out of his lungs on the impact as Yali hollers in the background.

Cheater! He calls her through their mental link and urges his lungs to inflate  again. That’s not fencing. He snares her ankle as she shakes out her shoulder.

Rey snorts, an unnecessary indication of her thoughts on dueling etiquette, and focuses on extracting her foot from the trap. And this is?

I always cheat . He tugs on the power entangling her legs and snakes around her guard to tap her leg with his sword. Don’t be so distractible.

The little jab of pain focuses her, or maybe it’s his criticism; he’s only aware of the crystallizing of her will in response to his. She shears through the restraint like it's gauze and rattles off a barrage of strikes against him. Kylo yields ground, drawing her around in a circle, makes her chase him, foiling her blows with quick little snags of the Force around her arms and legs.

“ Quit messing around and fight me!”  Rey fights for breath as she twists around another extension of his power.

“Make me!” Kylo dodges as her training sword hisses through the air inches from his nose, a flash of blinding light offsetting his balance.  The power answers her call and for a moment he’s frozen in place before shaking it off, crossing blades with her and bearing down with the full brunt of his strength.

She strains against him with gritted teeth and then kicks at his leg. A risky move - it might have paid off had she connected with his knee, but her foot gets caught in the long folds of his robe so the blow glances off his calf and she gives way, rolling out from under their crossed blades, getting a lucky jab on his side as she scrambles back up.

“You’re not gonna kick a Sith to death!” Yali screeches, “Fight him, girl!”

The swords crackle against each other, hissing as a touch is scored against skin or cloth. Kylo picks up the pace and pushes the tide of the fight against her. Now Rey gives ground, but she makes him earn every inch as he herds towards a wall. He feels her sense his intent, the shift where she stops retreating and stars looking for ways to circle around. Her thoughts dart and flicker as she tries to counter his offense, tries to dodge away from the trap he’s guiding her into. A foot away from the wall he catches her blade against his and gives her a smug, triumphant grin.

“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?” Rey hisses. He can feel her arms tremble.

Kylo tilts his head to the side, pretends to consider the question, “I’m not the one pinned against the wall, here.”

Rey jabs out with the Force, a blunt extension of her will, exactly as he taught her, and hits him in the throat. It snaps his head back, drives him back a step, but he can still feel her move, throwing herself away from the wall, and he doesn’t need to look to slash down across her back. It stings across his shoulders and she grabs his wrist, twists and pulls, drags him down as she falls. She grunts as they collapse in a tangle of limbs, duel devolving into a juvenile tussle replete with half-hearted punches.

In the distance, he hears Yali cackle. He catches Rey’s slim ankle when she kicks out at him again, hauls himself up to his knees and captures her jab against his palm, wraps his fingers around her fist. “Do not try that against Snoke.” Her hand flexes in his, their bond humming with energy, a steady, reassuring awareness, and when he’s confident she won’t take another swing at him, he lets go of her hand.

Hitching her shoulders, Rey rubs the back of her neck. “If Snoke’s got me up against a wall like that, you had better be stabbing him in back.” She grimaces as her stomach gurgles and clambers to her feet, offers Kylo her hand. “Can we grab a bite?” She gives him a sly look. “And perhaps my sword?”

Kylo’s stomach rumbles in response as he grips her hand and regains his feet. “Sure.”

Picking each up in turn, he powers down the training swords and tosses them into a corner as Rey crosses back to the holochron. “Yali? We’re going to break for a little while. Do you want me to leave you here?”

“No, no, I’ll go back in the box.” The master gripes. “You should be able to open it whenever you want now. And I’ll be keeping an eye on you two, so no funny business!” Her small purple face wrinkles into a feigned scowl and she waggles a finger at them as the lid clicks shut.